


Blindsighting

by L56895



Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: F/M, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, kink: blindfolds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L56895/pseuds/L56895
Summary: Nooj takes Paine for some target practise.
Relationships: Nooj/Paine (Final Fantasy X-2)
Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952539
Kudos: 3





	Blindsighting

**Author's Note:**

> Very loose definition of ‘kink’ today... in that it’s completely safe for work! I’m constantly a day behind but today’s prompt was ‘blindfolds’.

“Hold your gun steady. You need to be able to aim true.”

Paine grumbled, willed her hands still and fired. Without the telltale crack of a bullet hitting wood she knew she’d missed, even before pulling away the blindfold to glare up at Nooj.

“How can I aim at all when I can’t see?”

Tossing the pistol in to the sand, she readjusted the blindfold with a stiff huff.

Yesterday’s exercise had been a disaster. Their team, stumbling in to a nest of fiends, would have been overpowered if it weren’t for Gippal’s deep pockets and a couple of emergency bombs. He and Baralai had been mid-celebration before they turned and noticed her grasping at her eyes, her sphere recorder laying in the sand. A darkness spell, cast early on in the battle, had rendered her useless- even if she was only supposed to be an observer- until Baralai pulled a vial of eye drops from his pocket and cupped her chin in his hand to apply them. When she finally blinked the black spots from her vision Nooj and Gippal were watching her, concerned, and the decision was made to train her in something other than swordplay in the event of an emergency.

“Doesn’t hurt to have a backup, Dr P!” Gippal had slapped her on the back when she protested, arguing her sword had always been fine, and gestured to his own eye patch, “Trust me.”

So, she had agreed and Gippal had taken on the task of teaching her to shoot with added limitations, until he had been called away to the Maester’s quarters to show them the rudimentary workings of an old machina Team Four had pulled from the sand- having the only Al Bhed in their squad had its downsides. Paine had headed to the makeshift firing range in any case, hoping to improve her shot with two good eyes before they made her try with any additional challenges. To her surprise, Nooj had been waiting for her, gave his usual curt greeting, before taking the small pistol from her and checking it carefully.

“ _You’re_ going to teach me?” she had raised an eyebrow, folded her arms across her chest and kept her voice as curt as his. He had barely said a word to her over the past few weeks, nothing above necessity, and so the image of him as a teacher was far less convincing than the convivial Gippal. But her options were limited and rumours of a new trial the next day were swirling around the camp.

And so now she stood, sunburnt and thirsty and tired, with a thick blindfold tied firmly across her eyes. She had balked when Nooj had first handed it to her, refused until he raised an eyebrow and passed her pistol from hand to hand.

“You think you’ll be any better at shooting than swordplay with a darkness spell on you? I’ve seen you use that sword, it’s an extension of yourself, but it was still useless to you in the dark and you don’t want to have to get too close to things you can’t see. You need to practise shooting without sight, use your other senses, then you might be in for a chance.”

She had ignored the small part of her that was pleased he had been watching her, that he had noticed her skills with the blade. He would not have wanted her to feel flattered, it was simply a statement of fact.

“You sound like an expert,” she had scoffed, at first, then frozen and considered him. Rumours had run through the camp of his prowess in the Crusaders long before his final battle with Sin. How much had he had to relearn after his limbs had been torn from his body? Perhaps he would make an even better teacher than Gippal, without the distraction of the latter’s constant jokes.

With the blindfold secure the world was completely dark to her. The fabric itched and irritated and she swiped at it impatiently until she felt a heavy hand still her and the cool metal of her pistol slipped back in to the other hand.

“Here,” his voice was softer, close to her ear and she realised she could feel him nearby. Feel the warmth of his body as he came up beside her. “Don’t shoot until I say, I have an idea.”

She stood still, arms folded and listened to the sounds around her. The heavy crunch of his feet on the sand; the whistle of the wind in the dunes; somewhere far away a squall of birds, probably fighting over the scarce food available on the desert island. Then, very softly, an unfamiliar ringing. Paine pulled the blindfold back up.

“What?”

Nooj was busy tying something to the target, a scrap of fabric attached to a small metal bell. She watched him carefully when he turned and walked slowly back to her, gait unsteady on the sand dunes.

“Fiends make noise,” he muttered by way of explanation, “Targets don’t. You need to have something to focus on if not sight. Cover your eyes again and listen. Tell me if you can locate it.”

To her surprise, when she had replaced the heavy fabric she felt a hand on either shoulder and was spun, roughly, until her feet were unsteady and she stumbled. He caught her before she fell and she felt his breath against her ear. Irritated, she reached back for the blindfold, felt his hands on hers and paused.

“Now, tell me where the target is.”

Briefly, she stood there disorientated, unanchored and dizzy. Then she felt the firm squeeze of a hand on her shoulder and raised the gun; listened for the sound of ringing in the wind, aimed and fired.

Wood splintered in the distance, shards of board rained down in the sand and she clenched her fist in celebration.

“Nice shot.”

Nooj was behind her now, warm and solid. If she moved back she could lean against his chest, feel his hands come again to guide her, and the thought caught her by surprise. It wasn’t an unpleasant one- he was striking to look at, for sure- but it had risen, completely unbidden and she felt her face flush. Hidden by the sunburn, she hoped.

If he had any idea of what was on her mind he said nothing, simply stepped closer and ran his right hand down her arm to grip her wrist. His fingers never lost contact, a silent touch that said _this is where I am, this is where we’re going,_ and without her sight she was grateful for the consideration- the gesture was more thoughtful than she would have thought possible of him- and she shuddered under his touch. Still, he held her wrist firmly, guided her arm back up and then similarly stroked her left arm with his machina hand, pushed gently against her forearm until they were stood, his chest pressed to her back and her arms steepled in front of her, wrists locked in his hands.

“Not quite a bullseye, but maybe close enough for larger fiends. Try again with both hands.” As he spoke she felt something graze her ear. His lips? She tried to concentrate on the sounds of the bell again.

The firing of the gun seemed deafening now, hurt her ears and made her bones rattle. Nothing like the swift silence of her sword. But the hiss that came from Nooj and the sound of cracking wood told her she’d hit her target again and she turned, grinned up in his direction and stood triumphantly.

“Good,” he whispered, and she could hear the smile on his lips, “Again.”

She rolled her eyes at his abruptness. She should have known he wouldn’t let her celebrate for long. But she resumed her previous position, let him adjust her stance with a hand on either hip, and steadied her shaking hands with a deep breath.

This time the recoil sent her flying backwards, she had misjudged how much weight to put on her back foot, and she knew she had missed the target even before Nooj caught her in his arms. She slammed against his chest, disorientated, but he kept her upright- one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand braced against her side, fingertips grazing the edge of her right breast.

“Thanks,” she muttered, pulling out of his arms and turning to face him. He was still close; she hadn’t stepped away, but neither had he. It occurred to her to wonder why. A strange sense of nervousness washed over her. Not fear, as such, but trepidation as she waited for him to say something, do something. “Maybe we should get back,” she whispered, edging back. “The guys’ll be wondering where we are.”

He grunted in response, stepped close enough that she could smell the residue of his own gun, sharper and more metallic than her pistol. Hydraulic whistles and clicks accompanied his every move, she noticed. She expected him to take the gun from her, return to his curt demeanour, and she was only mildly disappointed by the thought.

She hadn’t expected his hand on her face, cupping her cheek as he ran the pad of his thumb along the edge of her blindfold. Her skin felt as if on fire, burning under his touch even more than under the hot desert sun and she shuddered. Touching her wasn’t on the agenda, not like this, and for a moment she was too shocked to be angry. Then it wasn’t anger but a quiet pleasure that welled up in her, spread to her edges. He pulled back.

If she took the blindfold off now, whatever spell had fallen over them would be broken and they could go back to camp unburdened. They wouldn’t speak of it again; there was nothing _to_ speak of really, just a quick gesture between sort-of friends. The kind of thing that would mean nothing in a week, something to joke about. They could be actual friends, like her and Gippal and Baralai, and this moment would mean nothing more than delirium in the heat. Only, if it meant nothing then why was her stomach churning? Why could she suddenly imagine him touching her in the dark of night, secret caresses and soft embraces when no one was looking. If she opened her eyes now, would he meet her gaze or turn away? She decided she wasn’t ready to find out. Instead, she reached forward, pressed her hands against him- his hips were in easy reach- then gently stroked upwards, touch as light as his had been.

The fabric of his clothes was rougher than she had expected, designed for practicality over comfort, and she ran her fingertips across it, over the broad plain of his chest. He said nothing, although she could feel his breath on her cheek, hear him exhale when her fingers found bare skin, brushed past the metal fastening that fell loose at his chest. Emboldened by finding no resistance, she slipped her hands under the fabric, splayed them out against his chest. In response she felt him shift closer, guide her towards him with soft fingertips on her hips, his touch featherlight.

His skin was smooth, softer than she would have imagined, and cool to the touch. What would it feel like to have his bare chest pressed against her in the chilled nights? She savoured the thought, moved her hands across his chest as he sighed, buried his face in her hair and murmured something unintelligible. Her thoughts swam when she sensed a change beneath her fingertips; skin that was unnaturally smooth and then pitted and raised; scars, she realised. Of course. She resisted the initial impulse to shrink back, fluttered both hands down the length of his torso with equal fervour and felt the painful difference between the unbroken skin on his right and the abused on his left. As she caressed, he had lifted his face from her hair and she tipped her chin up, tip of her nose brushing against his chin.

Then his lips, chapped by the wind and the sun, brushed hers. Barely a kiss, more like the whisper of one, and she shuddered against him, waiting. For a long moment they stood there, until he pulled away abruptly, flinching back as if he had been burnt, and she clung to his shirt as he went.

“Hey Nooj! Dr P!”

Paine pulled the blindfold off, squinted in the harsh sunlight to see Gippal and Baralai making their way down a sand dune. Nooj must have spotted them as they reached the peak, pushed her away at the sight of them, and shame washed over her. If the others had seen anything it didn’t show on their faces and Gippal gave Nooj a friendly slap on the arm.

“How’d the target practice go?”

Nooj looked down at her, eyebrow raised.

“It was... encouraging.”

Oh, she was in trouble.


End file.
